


This Will Destroy You

by bobbimorse



Series: Ashes To Ashes [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical Cursing, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Project Freelancer, a slew of original characters tbh, origins/backstory of Project Freelancer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 05:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3556985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbimorse/pseuds/bobbimorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>YEAR ONE: INNOCENCE </p><p>Do you see them - so little and so fair? See how they toddle amongst the dead, their pretty little heads balanced on pretty little necks attached to pretty little bodies so full of strength, so full of HOPE. See them draw pictures in the dust and grime of WAR, how they take this crumbling world and mold it into a future gilded with the gold of a morning sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Will Destroy You

**CHAPTER I**

Louisiana

* * *

 

There are various forms and meanings behind the word “tense”. There’s the sort of tension shared between two strangers; that potent, awkward stillness that accompanies a complete emotional disconnect. Then there’s romantic tension, which has many sub-variations on its own; and then you’re into the realm of sexual tension and things start getting... _complicated_.

Louise, however, is currently the _worst_ kind of tense. The type that throw shoulders back to the point of aching, hands clenching one another so tightly that her fingers are left kinda stinging and cold from lack of blood-flow. The slow, invasive burn of several pointed gazes that gradually pick her apart, piece by goddamn piece.

But the worst part _by far_ is it the utterly dead silence that consumes them. It’s all she can do not to blow a gasket, throw her fist through the nearest telescreen, _anything_ to break this goddamn quiet. Her head fights to tilt back, eyelids narrow at the Council, jut her prominent chin like a well-tended blade in their direction. Every fucking fiber of her being wants to rip this stupid, itchy uniform off, stitch by worthless stitch and tell the Council just where they can shove it. She wants to – oh _god,_ she _wants to_.

But fingernails dig into palms, sharp canines bite down on any shitty comments that might slip out, and she forces herself to wait. Respectfully. _Patiently._ Like a goddamn dog waiting for its master to come home, even if it means getting beaten shitless with a rolled-up magazine. 

Individual evaluations are complete bullshit on a good day; just a handful of dusty old bureaucrats wasting an hour of her day to pick over her annual Service Record with utterly unmasked apathy. Whoop-de-fuckin’- _do._ Not exactly how she’d like to spend her _one off-day_ for the month, but her superiors don’t exactly ask for her _opinion_ on these sort of things.

Not that she’s in anyposition to share these feelings; not after that whole… _incident_ a few days back, anyways.

A moment of silent prayer that maybe, by some goddamn miracle, they _haven’t_ heard about that little issue. Because if they have… well, then she’s fucked three ways to Sunday and left with nowhere to go. 

Here’s to wishful thinking, though.

Her jaw’s just starting to throb when a single Councilmember finally breaks formation, rising slowly from one of many matching high-backed leather chaises to level with her. He’s got to be in his late sixties, maybe seventies, fading hairline shot through with steel; dark, intelligent eyes shining out for behind thick, round spectacles. He carries himself with the muted ferocity of post-military authority that Louise instantly dislikes.

When he finally introduces himself as the Council Master, she isn’t so much as shaken – _of course_ he is.

"Welcome, Lieutenant Costas,” He begins, smooth as soap over a cheese grater. “Or do you prefer Isadora?”

 _Ugh_ … — Louise almost visibly winces. Seriously, three words between them and already she wants to burn this ungodly building to the ground. She’s not sure if she hates him more for just announcing her ridiculously gross legal name to a room full of pretentious strangers or because his voice sounds like a mix between curdled milk and the muted snap of a guitar string; either way, this douche just moved himself one peg up on her growing list of people she’d voluntarily push into oncoming traffic.

“Louise.” She finally manages to reply, teeth grinding each syllable as she spits it in his direction. “I _prefer_ Louise.”

A crease appears between the Council Master’s gray-streaked brows; more of a thoughtful gesture than anything else, really. His next words are slower, obviously picked with careful consideration.

“Interesting… you don’t like your birth name do you, Lieutenant?”

“No.”

“Would you mind me asking why?”

“ _Yes_.”

Head bobs almost immediately in response, marking a definite surrender of the subject. “Fair enough, Lieutenant. It’s not my place to pry into sensitivematters. Anyways, that’s not why you’re here.”

Well, if he was looking for a way to grab her interest, he’s got it now. Head cants ever-so-slightly to the left, a single brow quirking with well-practiced apathy.

“So why _am_ I here?”

In response, the Council Master steeples his fingers under a prominently hooked nose, considering her. “A very adept question, Lieutenant, which deserves an equally adept answer. And I will indeed answer it — just not yet. First, I’m going to need to ask you a few… simple business inquiries.”

The Council Master snaps his fingers and, like fucking magic, another grey-haired Councilmember pulls a manuscreen out of thin air and places it into his waiting hands. The familiar motion jogs a memory, one deeply buried within Louise’s long-term psyche, and her mouth’s suddenly dry as a goddamn bone because it’s only then that she realizes –

…Oh. Oh _shit._ This isn’t an evaluation at all – probably never was, really, but she’d been so eager to hope for the best…

She crosses fingers behind her back and waits.

“Question number one,” The Council Master reads in his stupid, vanilla voice. “Do you recognize this man?”

Louise knows the face long before it appears on the projector module – still, it’s all she can do not to drop her gaze to the scuffed toes of her boots.

“…Yeah.” By some miracle, her voice is a whole hell of a lot steadier than her insides are currently feeling. “Yeah, sir, I recognize him.”

“Do you remember his name?”

Is this fuck _playing_ with her..?

“That’s Commanding Officer Frailly.”

“Yes, Derek Frailly. Very good, Lieutenant.”

  _Keep talking down to me, grandpa, and so help me I’ll shove a live cattle prod straight up your –_

“Now,” The Council Master continues, bland as can be. “If you’d be so kind, would you perhaps explain to the Council the events that transpired between you and the Commanding Officer on the afternoon of July 18th, 2527?”

_Shit._

“Uh, I don’t think – I mean, I didn’t see Frailly at all. I think he might’ve taken a sick day. Or something, I don’t know…”

A lie, and obviously not a good one – the Council Master hums disapprovingly in response, and though his expression remains picturesque, dark eyes gleam from behind silver-rimmed glasses in a manner that can only be described as “dangerous”.

“I _do_ encourage you to search your memory a bit more thoroughly, Lieutenant Costas. If you could, perchance, remember even the slightest detail, you’d be surprised by how much it might alter your… _precarious_ situation.”

 _Whoop_ –! There it is.

Hands close tightly into fists, her pride refusing to let the Council see the slow-growing tremors. What’s it matter anyways? They _know_ – it’s so laughably clear now that they knew – had _known_ long before she’d stepped foot in this room. She was an idiot for having hoped at all.

This fucking _sucks._

“…He lived.” is all she manages to get out. Not exactly the most _elegant_ way to admit to assaulting your CO, but… it’s a start.

The Council Master, however, remains placidly (almost _annoyingly_ ) unimpressed. “I hardly think that’s a cause for celebration, Lieutenant.”

“It is for _him_.”

Now… let’s get one thing straight here: despite standing accusations, Louise isn’t a particularly _violent_ person. Hard to believe, yeah, but… y’know, the world was so shitty all on its own for her to somehow feel justified in breaking another person’s skin just over petty shit. But Frailly… that fucker had crossed the line. Seriously, what kind of guy would… _publicly humiliate_ someone like that? Yeah, it’s one thing to discipline a subordinate when they step out of line, she’s not _stupid_ – but stripping them bare-ass naked in front of the whole squadron, whipping them with a fucking _switch_ like they’re no better than an _animal_ …

 _Red_.

She’d seen _red_.

“He –… Frailly – what he _did_ was fucking _inexcusable_.” She all but spits the words at the Council Master, heat rising to her cheeks with the collective force of a tidal wave. “Treating someone – treating a _goddamn human being_ like that…” The sound she makes is of pure disgust. “Something had to be done… I just happened to be the only one present who had the stones to do it.”

“So in warranted retaliation, you concluded that the only fair solution was to break his arm.”

The bark of laughter Louise responds with causes the lady just to the Council Master’s right to damn jump out of her wrinkled old skin. It really is funny, actually, ‘cause by _her_ count, she broke waaaaaaay more than just his arm...

Frailly’s _lucky,_ and she tells the Council Master exactly that.

His response is bone-dry at best. “I don’t see how being in a coma for four days could possibly be perceived as “lucky”, Louise.”

Skeptical silence is the only response she gives him.

The Council Master observes her over steepled fingers; quiet, thoughtful. Neither one of them utters a word for a long, heavy moment. When he finally speaks, his voice is so low and smooth that for a second, Louise thinks she imagined hearing it at all.

“It is clear to me now that you regret nothing in your decision, Lieutenant, so I won’t be wasting time on asking. But I will ask you this—” The entire collective Council leans subtly forward, as though all pushed by the same indiscernible force which tugs at Louise’s gut, shrieking to run.

“What _would_ you change?”

All at once… Louise has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She’s seen this before – a verbal white flag. Of course, any logical person would see this as a way out; a chance at redemption, possibly an honorable discharge and a slap on the wrist. All one needed was a brain and a pair of eyes to see just how deep in shit she currently is – which, just to clarify, is very, very, _very_ deep. Most would feel the water lapping at their knees and know it’s time to jump ship, admit defeat in the face of certain failure. Any smart, intelligent, _mentally stimulated_ person would know that this is the moment in which to fall to your knees and wail your repentance to the heavens in hope of some kind of mercy.

But Louise… well… Louise isn’t smart – not when she’s _convinced_ she’s right, and not when she’s utterly committed to being stubborn as _fuck_ ; both of which she currently is.

So – because Louise is Louise, and Louise is a gigantic fucking piece of self-destructive energy just waiting for the smallest breath of wind to push her into blowing her whole life to hell – she lifts her shoulders in a brief, non-committal shrug and, not once moving her gaze away from the Council Master’s unflinching stare, replies in a low, monotonous voice: 

“Could’ve aimed more for the throat, I guess…”  

_Ka-fuckin’-boom._

The replying silence is… well, it’s _crushing._ Not a sound – nobody breathes, including Louise, upon whom the gravity of her situation is suddenly _very_ apparent.

Shit… _shit,_ she just royally fucked herself, didn’t she?

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck _fuckfucking shit,_ why did she just fucking _do_ that? Why does she always gotta be so goddamn _proud_?Dammit, Louise can’t pick up her life again, not after the fucking shitstorm she fought just to get here, the utter ass-crack of the world. She can’t go through that ridiculous ordeal again -- she _can’t._

More importantly, she _won’t._

She’s just about ready to give in and pull a “Virgin Mary” – which is essentially just bawling like a weak little bitch on the floor and pulling some sob-story about “being unable to stand by as the innocent were abused” out of her ass in order to cull sympathy from the Council -- when the Council Master does something completely unexpected.

He _smiles_.

And Louise… well, she’s not entirely sure just _what_ thatmeans. But she doesn’t exactly have a whole lot of time to process because –

“You really are _something_ , aren’t you..?” The Council Master chuckles, more to himself than anyone else. “Almost unbearably hot-headed. Ruder than a savage, really, but honest without fail. Completely and utterly committed to your conviction, not to mention the tenacity of a bulldog. I can see why the Director took to you so quickly.”

 _Fuckin’_ thanks, _grandpa._

Wait… what?

And then, it’s suddenly like she’s trying to swallow a freight train. Louise blinks slowly at him, processing about one word a minute.

The Director? Talk about shitty codenames… who was this creep and why was he, in theory, so “taken with her”? A second ago, Louise was pretty sure her ass was about to become UNSC cannon fodder almost entirely due to her being a snide little shit; now they’re practically throwing her a parade. Did she miss something or..?

“…about a day or so to process you, but I’d imagine a favorite such as yourself should take even less than that,” The Council Master’s saying, blithely unaware of how hopelessly lost Louise is. “We’ll get you fitted for your suit and gear units now. That’ll save us time in the long run, considering you’ve got to get your packing done and say your goodbyes.” There’s a faint clicking sound as the he presses the manuscreen, opening a live-com connection. “Selybe, get Andersmith on the line – tell him to ready the Pelican for departure at oh-eight-hundred hours. And Selbye, be a dear and remove that restriction on Lieutenant Costa’s file. It won’t be necessary where she’s going.”

“I’m—… sorry. Can you just… wait a second!” Louise has to fight the urge to rub her temples with her fingertips. “Sorry. I just… I don’t understand. Is this some sort of sick _joke_ or..? I mean, are you all just fucking with me here, ‘cause if you are, that’s seriously _not_ okay.”

The Council Master’s jaw tightens slightly when she cuts him off, as though he were irritated about having been interrupted.

“This is completely serious, Lieutenant. I’m not sure exactly _what_ it is that you’re failing to grasp.”

“All that stuff about the Director! Plus, you said something about fitting me for a new suit, which doesn’t even make sense because I already _have_ one and it fits just _fine_ , and then there was that shit there at the end about un-restricting my file and I just – why aren’t you arresting me? For god’s sake, I broke the _law_ and damn near—”

“ _Louise_.” The sharpness of his tone stops her dead.

“Uh… sir?”

There’s a metallic creak as he leans marginally back in his chair. She can’t quite decipher the look he’s currently giving her, which is… honestly, really fucking annoying because Louise is used to being able to read facial expression well enough to predict her opponents’ next move and without that she’s kind of left wallowing in uncertainty until said move is actually made. And Louise _hates_ when someone knows something she doesn’t. Hatesit more than she hates surprises, which she _really_ hates.

And then the Council Master tells her she’s been reassigned.

Louise’s response?

 _Rage_.  

“Are you fucking _joking_?”

“Louise—“

“ _Don’t_ talk to me like I’m a child, Council Master, not after the pure amount of _shit_ I’ve waded through and bodies of good soldiers I’ve buried for this _fucking army_.”

“ _Louise_ —“ There’s a faint shadow of warning in his voice, but Louise isn’t having it – she barrels right on over him without a second thought.

“And it’s “ _Lieutenant_ Costas” – I don’t wear the damn badge to _complement my eyes_!”

“ _Enough_!”

Fists are brought down onto the table beneath with enormous force, causing every person in the room, including Louise, to flinch at the sudden burst of sound.

“I’ve never, in all my years, met a person as utterly and positively _insufferable_ as you, Miss Costas. You have _no_ respect for authority, you refuse to follow regulation, you’re aggressive and have little mind for the thoughts of other people—“

“Now, that’s just _not_ —“

“ _Quiet_! You haven’t so much as a single _bone_ of patience in your entire body, and you speak in such a vile, insolent manner that you strike me as somehow _less_ articulate than a greater portion of Covenant scum I’ve had the great misfortune of coming into contact with. You, Louise Costas, are a complete and utter nightmare as a human being – and _that’s_ what makes you a truly admirable soldier.”

_What?_

Her confusion must’ve been clear as day, because the Council Master continues.

“Admittedly, you’ve struggled to accept superior officer’s orders in the past; but even then, you always managed to put your squad before yourself and to have their self-interest in mind. Though it’s completely contradictory to your seemingly narcissistic attitude, your standing record in battle shows nothing but altruism and efficiency under pressure. I myself didn’t truly understand how you could be so utterly indomitable in your personal life and yet, a natural leader while taking fire, until I saw you with my own eyes.”

Louise, throat drier than the Sahara at high noon, swallows unsteadily; wishing her gaze was as piercing as his currently was, but certain it wasn’t.

“And..?”

The Council Master inclines his head, lips pursed in thoughtful silence.

“You’re, as they say… “a complete bitch”.”

  _Wow._

“—But you might just be the best soldier I’ve ever seen.”

…Oh. _Oh_.

“T-thank you,” And then, after a moment of awkward tension: “I mean, thank you, _sir_."

The Council Master just sighs and slowly shakes his head, waving her away with a hand.

“Just – just be ready to depart at oh-eight-hundred, Miss Costas.”

“Uh… sir?”

“What _now_?”

“You…” Louise’s tongue scrambles to find the right words. “I’m still not entirely sure what’s going on here. Where am I going?”

The Council Master drags his scrupulous gaze up from his manuscreen to fix upon her uncertain expression. For a moment, they just stare at one another; blank, probing the other silently for answers they’re not entirely sure they want to hear aloud just yet.

But finally, the Council Master sighs, pushing away his manuscreen and lacing long fingers under his hawkish nose.

“Tell me, Louise... what do you know about Project Freelancer?”


End file.
